Address Poems - Poems about Address

This is your home address, you said Seems like so many years ago Now it’s a memory asset We don’t live there anymore The lawn has grown a bit too high No one shall come to sweep the leaves From the doorstep, and the sky Hangs down low over the hills Your flower beds are in decay No one will care for the...

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In Springfield’s hall, a young man stood, And spoke of threats that none withstood— Not foreign armies, but seeds within, A nation’s ruin born of sin. Today, his warning feels alive, As fear and doubt among us thrive. The law bends under weight and strain, And justice falters, flawed, profane. Pardons shield the loyal few, While freedoms erode as tempests brew. Policies divide, compassion fades, And...

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On the one hand we are told not to blow our own trumpet and be humble, One the other hand we we must express Love for ourselves, And through the worlds not stumble, Or our lives will get lost in the concrete jungle. So how do Love ourselves less without getting into a tangle, Or Love...

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You know, I am a restless woman from ages past, Who does not know the address of her home. I am searching For the address of my home. The house where I was born Held wealth that was never mine. I worked, Toiled, And through all joys and...

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In courts where lies weave their tails, And justice seems a distant dream, There lies the fate of souls confined, By trials flawed and justice blind. Florida, hear their muted cries, Beneath the endless, azure skies, Restore the truth, make wrongs undone, Illuminate their moonless sun. A second glance, a careful eye, To see what justice might belie, Review each case with earnest heart, For fairness...

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You have time still, to escape with your essentials. I only know one spider. It will crawl to you slowly, as a million-dollar snail might. He has made an apartment where the ceiling and wall meld like oceans. His place is lousy with cross-hatched whites, with a fine sheer finish that glows in the sunlight. At present, he is resting in a sunbeam atop...

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It was a crisp day October 27th 1942 that's when my pop set out for WW11 right after my grandmother Nona gave birth to my dad orders arrived his job assignment was to protect the priest arch bishops and future Pope's being captured and killed for their religious belief safety guarded in Saint Sebastian church in Rome...

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Today i had to leave my home I awakened to break ins again a raging ex husband his girl friend my fatal attraction thee arsonist stalking me sending terrorist threats by Telly unexpected calls for funeral arrangements why if I don't keep quiet they will harm me again over my American poetry seated with a...

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I am the maker of your fear, says the silver ocean. like the dessert sun to a scotched frog, I strike the sand and bury you deep with each beat, Too when the night is calm, and moon puts me to slumber I lay heavy on your soul that pleads to turn dust and fly, If for a minute. I hear...

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Jealousy Ego Envy Green Eyed Monster All of these Insecurities And human malaise Are and reside Deep way down Inside my Black Tar Soul Heart Unless I choose To address them With the exact same Jealousy Ego Envy & Green Eyed Monster I have come to expect and count on From myself before That pains me to my very core Since I first transitioned from a Boy to a man child Unless I...

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** A Poetry Avalanche ** Goodness! Lord! I’m on a roll this morning! The poetry keeps coming — nearly torturing! My keypad arm and fingers are alrady so tired… It’s as if The address of poetry were On fire! — With every poem present there retreating From the inspirations wrought from burning memories, preferring The refreshing lure of ...

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Miss Barker, let me say a word, though this to many seem absurd. Your attitude I find pragmatic, not judgmental, not dogmatic. So poetry is not your strength though some will go to any length to immortalize themselves in verse, writing dogerell, if not worse. Avoid concerns to you so alien. Be what you are, a Pomeranian....

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Still searching for my permanent address, seeking where I really live, fit in. Suspended between life’s already-happened and soon-to-be-memories moments. Longing for a white-picket-fenced home, landscaped in self-trust, self-respect, with room for a full-of-love heart. Instead, I discover a crumbling castle, mossy, dank dungeon of the mind imprisons me. The jagged nettles of cruel abuse doled out by my dark thoughts pierce my soul. Spirit sapped, barely staying...

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For one to a thing access There is often a process, Its full name: Laid-Down Process... In schools The bell for Recess, Accounts auditors assess: We all wait for Due Process... And nurses have craved process While treating patient's abscess. Nothing is done in excess, Not while there exist process. Process now means True Progress, Absence of it: True Regress. But it does mean, too, Duress. Letters starting...

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I don’t have to give you the address to my house Just the explanation Wait! I said. Is it red? She nodded. On Elmbrook Lane? She verified it. You live in the underground house! Head nod. Can I come in and see it? Why not? She said. Everybody else does....

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